Lucy (Prt 4)

            It would be years before he heard from Lucy again. She had wrote him a note of congratulations on their new hit, Wasted Chances, a ballad about meeting an old flame in a bar. A few months later he had gotten a call from Lillian.

            It was a car accident. She was taken swiftly. She wasn’t in pain. She would want you to be there.
            She looked more like herself than she had the last time he had seen her. Her face was tranquil, as if she were simply sleeping.
            He had hoped there would be time.

            Lillian had informed him of a will and that her lawyer would be getting in touch with him soon.  Lillian pressed a small tattered book into his hands.
            “It was her journal. She mentioned you a lot. I felt you should have it.”
 
            When he would read it on the way home, he would discover how much she truly had loved him, and even between all the dark, ugly things happening around her, there were patches of light, and at the center of each patch of light was his name.

            A little girl, about ten years old, sat next to him during Lucy’s eulogy. On the other side of her sat a bitter lump of a drunk she called “Grandpa”. On the other side of him was a scowling lump of a degenerate the girl called “poppa.”
           
 She said her name was Jonie and she liked horses and dancing.

 She had the most gorgeous amber eyes he had ever seen.